Too Many Books

"There's more than one answer to these questions  Pointing me in a crooked line And the less I seek my source for some definitive  (The less I seek my source) Closer I am to fine."     - Emily Sailers, Indigo Girls God, dear lord, this song moves me. It took me an instant to give up Christianity, but it's taken me a couple of decades to wrap my arms around that loss.  We are humans. We live, and we die. Our sons and our daughters live on. And they die,, and their sons and daughters live on, and we, as a species, ideally -  have eternal life.  But there's no ME in that scenario. I'm a cog in the wheel. I'm dust and decomposition. I'm the roadkill the crows would be pecking at, were it not for embalming or caskets or cremation.  And I don't want to be nothing. I don't want to have no consciousness. I want to know what happens next. I want more than what I'll likely be given - 100 years or so on a planet, as a fairly evolved mammal - evolved e

 Man, Twitter's a rough place. Between the backward Kentucky parents who are terrified of their children hearing that it's okay to say Gay and the "Adnan is guilty" camp, it's been a rough week.  At least it's Hump Day.  I'm sure someone's panties area in a wad because I said HUMP. So, panties are very twisted all over the country as a concerted effort began - what, a year ago or so? - to TAKE OUT the secular man, the Humanists, the writers down of words and ideas.  And, it's really shitty.  I understand that parents want to decide what is age-appropriate for their children to read. The same goes for television, movies, social media, and hell, you probably even have a major news outlet that you prefer. So, yeah - you want to know what words, images, and ideas are entering your child's impressionable brain, so that you can gatekeep out all of the "bad." And what "Bad" are you keeping out? So far, it seems to be the blowjobs a

 My mom is 65 and retired just before Covid 19 came on, escaping that banker's life just in time to avoid dealing with all the protocols. Later during the pandemic, I followed suit. I'm too young to say that I retired early, but I did leave my career behind in favor of dialing it back. (Thanks: remarriage. Thanks: privilege.) I essentially pressed pause for all of 2022. Leaving the workforce was, for me, a crisis of conscience, and existential exercise of Who Am I Now? I did know who I was then. And I didn't even know how to find out. I didn't know where to start. I spent the better part of 2022 on the couch. I listened to all my favorite True Crime podcasts, played Tetris on my phone, and waited for my husband from nine to five every day, looking forward to that basement door opening - he was only downstairs all day, in his home office.  On Tuesdays, I would trek to the grocery and try to get it together enough to buy ingredients and cook a couple of times each week. (

Hallelujah and Praise Be to the god of sleep, Hypnos and Somnus.  I googled those. It's not like I knew them offhand. Don't be impressed. After a weeks-long battle with the cool-side of the pillow, the dams have broken wide open. My active brain FINALLY told itself,  "Self?! Your Host Body is getting very sleepy. She's getting veerrrrrry sleepy." It was in the Car Rider Line at the middle school on Friday afternoon when this sweet symbiosis between body and mind took place. Now, even being there at all was a bit happenstance - my 7th grade daughter ordinarily has volleyball practice and doesn't need a ride home.  But Friday. O, sweet redemption day and song of my Soul.  Friday, practice was cancelled: Coach Leah was moving! She's a Prophet! An Annointed one! We particularly feel this way about her when she gives us ample playing time. So, since I live in Suburbia, there are 4315 moms in line pricking up their kids after school, and sometimes I'm one of

 TGIF, world. If you're new here, you might not know this, but - I have bipolar disorder. Hell, you might not know that either way. It's something that's really hard to discuss. There's the stigma at large, and there's the stigma we place on ourselves. And by "we" I mean "me." I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in early 2005, so basically Diagnosed Bipolar Me is now old enough to vote, serve our country, and/ or buy a lottery ticket.  I'm sure that this Mental Illness comes with different strokes for different folks... but, for me, it's the manic side of things that tend to spin out of control. Depression is like a wam blanket for me - familiar, and maybe even embedded in my DNA to the very core of my being. I'm sad - I'm often in existential crisis - but "baseline" me can handle it. I can cleanse my emotions with a sad movie or song.  I can always get out of bed. Manic me - my own Weird Barbie - feels an urgent and i

 One of the things I've missed most about blogging is my weekly over-share, entitled TMI Thursday. I figured, being as it's Thursday, there is no time like the present to revive the embarrassing, the degrading, the mortifying. It's time to get back to the cringe, the delicate details, the scandalous stories... the compromising confessions. In the interest of full disclosure, I turned 40 in 2021. Thanks to COVID, it sorta felt like a time loop or something - as if it didn't really happen. We did spend a couple of nights at a casino, which seemed even more thrilling, in that it felt pretty irresponsible. We survived - we masked up, and I held my own at the poker table. We didn't get sick. But I digress. Now, as the mom of a 12-year-old, I have been struggling with something for over a decade now. (Several things, actually - and thanks for pointing that out.) IYKYK - it starts out innocently enough. You laugh. You sneeze.  And you do the move - you know the one- you cr

I am Plath,  pre-heated.  I am a Poe of propotions. Charlotte painted my yellow walls; aunt Jennifer's curtains sewn. The outside is terrified when I'm loose. Jackson's state lottery will  never grant me winning numbers. No society of dead poets would allow me in.  No tokens No charmers  No charms.

  I've always been a fan of that verse in the bible that talks about working out your own salvation, with fear and trembling.  While I'm admittedly not a fan of fear, nor trembling, I think the verse speaks to me in a time when So Many People are worried about Other People's sin.  (Don't Be Gay.) (Have All the Babies.) Etc. After spending my teenage years as an Evangelical, I've joined in with the millennials and I am ALL about deconstructing: unpacking the emotional abuses and trauma of everything from Altar Calls to consistently being reminded that I have Sinned and fallen short of the glory of god. That I was born a sinner: I was never good enough.  I stopped going to church around the time I aged out of youth group. I can remember being newly 18 and losing my virginity, thinking of what I'd been told - I was now damaged goods for my future spouse. Yet, being intimate with my boyfriend felt right. Now, I'm in a second marriage, and if my husband and I had

Dang! I've just missed celebrating my Blog-iversary with you guys.  On September 5, 2009, I typed out my first Blog post. Just over 14 years ago today, I became completely enamored with the community the faceless friends I found. Of course, I gravitated toward the hopeful authors like me: Sierra Godfrey, Elana Johnson, Roni Loren.  We would read, and comment on, each other's posts. We'd hold silly contests with silly prizes.  We would do Ask Me Anything well before AMA's were a thing. We would encourage one another. We would share our writing. And sometimes we would share more.  I can full-on remember that weekday. I worked as a Head Teller, and my bank branch location was close to home. Before lunch, I'd been talking with my coworker Molly about some... things I was noticing in relation to a missed deadline... no period. I didn't have the language for it at the time, but WTAF.  So, I ran to the grocery, bought a two-pack of tests, and swung by my house to pee

I’ve never been “good” at having Bipolar Disorder. (I’m pretty sure that’s not even a thing.) For the record, I really loathe the term “bipolar.” I’m sure that’s likely because of the connotation, but still. Manic Depression was just fine and explained it well, so I don’t get why we needed to change it. But, I digress. If you’re new here, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder circa early 2005, when I stayed up all night after my Poker Home Game contemplating what I should “do” with my life other than waiting tables, staring at my college diploma dated May 2003, and smoking weed. Then I just kept on staying awake. For days. You might say I was lost. Languishing. You would have been right. I mostly held it together over the years, but every time I got recognizably manic (2005, 2008, 2019) I ended up needing inpatient treatment for a week. Those stays went from terrifying to intriguing. I really meshed with the addicts more than the others there for “regular” mental health help. (I’m not

My grandpa used to tell me to "kill 'em with kindness," which isn't actually that great of a saying, if you really ponder it. I mean, you're essentially suggesting it's cool to wear someone down slowly with your tenderness and your charm, just waiting to pounce when the 'em least expects it. Maybe my Papaw was a sociopath. (Some of you readers might be convinced that he passed it along to me.)  But, in reality, you and I both know that to "kill anyone with kindness" really just means to be nice, even when we don't want to be. I'm at this cute little Tea Shop in a hoity-toity part of the town where I live, exercising my privilege with a $6 cup of iced Strawberry Basil. I wanted Chocolate Chai, but they were out, because it's a seasonal; flavor - as the kid behind the counter told me unapologetically. I tried to keep my composure lest he think I'm a Karen, but I was a bit irritable about the whole thing. A god damn seasonal flavor?

Oh, great. Now I get to be annoyed by two Podcasts?! I'm quite disappointed in the "interview" I just finished listening to, in which the hosts of True Crime Garage reported (per their show notes) indicated some sort of discussion, banter or discourse which the absolutely did NOT execute on in the slightest. Outside of ONE measly comment to challenge Don as a reasonable suspect - and, thank you for having some balls on this, Captain - the hosts of True Crime Garage did little to nothing to challenge Brett and Alice on facts, to try to bring up an opposing opinion or idea, or anything other than let Brett and Alice drone on and on to continue their smear campaign against Marilyn Mosby, Becky Feldman, and Adnan.  And the toxin wants a Host. It wants to spread.  That said, since Nick couldn't bring himself to act as though he'd ever given an opinion before today, I'll take you through Part 1 of True Crime Garage's coverage of Alice and Brett's piss poor c

The Moderators of the Facebook Group called The Gallery - intended for "fans of the problematic The Prosecutors Podcast - must have been incredibly bored before I came along. First, there was the doxing. See, I use my pen name on Twitter, and I use my Real-Life Name on Facebook - you know, the Virtual Place where my twelve-year-old daughter and my prim and proper mother like to review my behavior online.  I mean, I was posting on Twitter and Leigh Burch and getting so many troll comments about how I'm insane, obsessed - you know, terrible all around and the like. So, I went to vent in the Truth & Justice FB fan page and admitted (using my real name) that I was interacting with The Pros Pod and their fans on Facebook using ONE name, and on Twitter using another. This is starting to sound like middle school girl drama, I know.  Long story short - some chic named Becca or Mandy or something doxxed me by taking a screen shot from the T&J page, and my "cover" was

  Basic Story With 20 Points:  Could Adnan be Innocent? "It's not a cop-out; it's case law." ~Bob Ruff, host, Truth and Justice Pod   1 Adnan was the main suspect - Hae's family passed that along to Officer Adcock on the afternoon she disappeared. Originally, they suspected she might be with Don, even though she had to work at 6pm and had never once NOT brought her cousin home. Does anyone know how old the second cousin is? Two cousins lived with Hae. And Officer Adcock's Supplemental Report dated 1/13/99 states that Mr. Lee advises that she "did not pick up his two cousins from school.") Did they go to the same school, these cousins? Another question that could be explored is why Hae's uncle is the only immediately family member who doesn't live with Hae.  Another pain point for me - I'm confused as to why the cousins did not live with their dad, Hae's uncle... but look. Every family has different dynamics. I mean, I gues

"If there is anything about my case, man - I want to know... I want to test it... There's nothing about my case that that I'm afraid of." - Adnan Syed Serial, Episode 12: What We Knew Instead of focusing on a flower and Jay's Changing Stories, Consider This: Christina Gutierrez did NOT provide Effective Assistance because...  O.4) Xtina was disorganized from the get-go. She has a terrible sounding voice, rest her soul, and she ends questions with, "did you nnaauuugghhhht?!" like after almost literally every question. It's really one of the worst sounding voices and style of asking questions that I've ever heard in my life. She didn't get the Asia testimony and she didn't nail down ANY timeline for a POTENTIAL alibi that could have persuaded the jury in Adnan's favor... and I say potential since even the Prosecutors (the ones at his Trial and the podcast ones) didn't know what time Adnan killed Hae. Boom.  O.5) She interrupted witn